


Garden

by rWolfWrites



Series: Post-ACOWAR, Pre-ACOFAS Works [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rWolfWrites/pseuds/rWolfWrites
Summary: Elain doesn't know how to approach Lucien, not really, or even if he wants to be approached. Lucien suffers a similar affliction, though his situation is compounded by a certain older sister.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Moving things over from Tumblr, don't mind me.

They did a lot of quiet sitting. Lucien seemed happy to sit and read in her presence and Elain … didn’t mind at all. Every so often he would get up to do something in another room (she pretended not to watch as he moved) and return only to sit some place else, closer to her. She didn’t mind that either.

 Elain did not want to be forward. She didn’t know how many people Lucien had been with. She didn’t know if any had been as quiet as her. She felt like she didn’t know anything about his life before her. Feyre had given her a quiet warning not to talk about Tamlin, who Elain was perpetually confused about. She didn’t even know how many hundreds of years old Lucien was, or if he was just fifty years old. She wondered when fifty years old had become young to her.

Elain never, never tried to use her abilities to see Lucien. Not once. She didn’t want to know. She wasn’t brave like Nesta and Feyre. She’d rather pretend to be as normal as a human-turned-faerie could be. Considering her models were her sisters, she was struggling.

Elain finished a chapter and fitted a book marker Azriel had found for her between the pages. Lucien was watching her over his own book, not at all discreetly. She hoped she wasn’t as obvious about her staring whenever he got up. She didn’t mind his eyes on her, she just didn’t know if he didn’t like it when she watched him. She didn’t want to upset him.

“I’m going up to the garden,” she said softly.

Lucien nodded, “Would … would you like me to join you?”

Elain nodded back, biting her lip. She never asked him to come with her. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to accompany her. But if he wanted to, if he offered, that was different. He closed his book and set it down on top of hers, offering his arm. Elain took it, looking away from him down to the floor. They went upstairs together, chatting amicably about their books.

“You know, it’s a little odd, actually,” Lucien chuckled. “Feyre recommended it to me.”

“She understands people so easily,” Elain sighed. She was never sure of what someone else thought, of her or anything else. She just wanted them to be happy and she could do that with little things. She liked little things, flowers and the tiny birds that flitted through the small fruit trees, smiles from strangers and a friendly face. So, she thought, at least some people must be happy with those things too.

“You believe the best of people,” Lucien said. “Not enough do.”

Elain met his eyes for a heart beat as they paused near the door to the roof. “You think that’s a good thing?”

Lucien smiled, “I think it’s a wonderful thing. And … I’d like to see you keep believing the best of people.”

“You don’t think I will?”

He chuckled, a low rumbling that Elain liked. She had learned all sorts of male laughs lately, what with Feyre’s Court, but she enjoyed Lucien’s most. She didn’t know if it was because they were mates or because it sounded so genuinely amused. “You’ve already seen a war, Elain. If that hasn’t shaken you, I don’t want to know what will.”

Elain liked the way he said her name, too. His voice in general. She kissed his cheek before she could convince herself not to and skipped out to her garden. She also liked that he had faith in the part of her that she was so scared would leave her. Everyone spoke of how kind she was and said she was a sweetheart (though they said it differently than Cassian did when he crooned in at her sister). She feared waking up one day and finding herself taking joy in other’s misery. The closest she’d ever come to that was stabbing someone in the neck. She didn’t particularly want to do it again, though.

Elain pulled weeds that shouldn’t have been able to find their way to the rooftop garden. She suspected the birds of carrying seeds. Lucien tried to help. He knew enough not to accidentally uproot her flowers. He missed some, though. Elain paused as she touched a late blooming flower. She could hear ten thousand roots pushing into the ground, Lucien’s steady heart and breathing, the City of Starlight’s bustling.

“Elain?” He was touching her arm gently where she knelt. She leaned back into him, touching her head gently. It was all so much sometimes. She still was adjusting to her new form and gifts. Things came to her so vaguely. She couldn’t think over the plants’ rustling. The wind was howling, louder and louder. “Elain,” Lucien’s warm breath tickled her brow as he pulled her hair back with hands that felt even larger than usual. He shifted to kneel in front of her carefully. She tried to find his eyes. She could hear the not-russet one whirring and clicking. His heart beat was becoming faster. “Elain, are you all right?” She closed her eyes, trying to keep the sun from burning her eyes. She could hear worms twisting in the earth, the same way they had twisted through bodies not long ago. “My mother is a lot like you,” Lucien said quietly. “She has powers no one expected of her and she is so  _incredibly_  kind. But my father, he doesn’t care about her kindness. After he gets what he wants from her, he doesn’t care at all. He has the power to control flames too, but there isn’t a thing about him that’s warm. My mother, on the other hand, was the warmest personality I ever knew, until, that is, I met you. My father hasn’t actively strived to smother her kindness, but it has been happening for centuries regardless. You’ve never had a soul do that to you. And I want to keep anyone from trying, purposefully or not.”

“Did you tell Nesta that?” Elain murmured. She looked up at him finally. She hadn’t realized how much she was shaking until she saw her hand on his shoulder, twitching.

“ _Nesta_  won’t hear more than three words out of my mouth before she attacks me or leaves the room,” Lucien smiled but he looked the same way he did when he was tired after a long night of Feyre’s Court bickering.

“I’m sorry,” Elain whispered.

“You’re still adjusting to- to everything. You have nothing to apologize for,” Lucien’s brows scrunched so that there was a line between them. Elain liked it. It seemed very human.

Wings boomed above them, and Elain looked up. Feyre, Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian dropped down from the sky, landing one after another. Lucien helped Elain to her feet, and she wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress without thinking.

“How my garden?” Rhys called.

“ _Your_  garden? Elain takes care of it,” Feyre shoved him, pausing to flare her wings out in the sun with a sigh. Rhys dragged a finger down her wing and she gasped.

“My house.”

“Our house.”

“You make house payments?”

"I didn’t realize  _you_  make house payments,” Feyre said slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“The plants would all be dead without Elain,” Lucien called bluntly. She murmured a denial and hid behind him slightly.

“Elain’s garden,” Azriel nodded, offering her one of his small smiles. She returned it before looking to the door, waiting. Ten seconds later, Nesta burst through it. She stopped once through the door, taking in the winged troop before her. She and Cassian each took a step toward one another before stopping.

Elain was just mildly irritated with this. She had seen a nephew of hers, winged and dark haired and tanned. She just didn’t know which of her sisters he belonged to and when he would arrive. It had been Mor holding him, clapping his hands together as she sang. But it wasn’t Mor’s child. She knew it more surely than she did most things that had already happened. Nesta turned to Feyre, “I take it flying is going well.”

“Cassian nearly took her arm off training,” Rhys grumbled. They all started moving toward Nesta and the door. She stepped aside to let them through. 

“She nearly decapitated me,” Cassian protested from the back of the group. Azriel chuckled and ducked inside. Feyre followed.

“You taught me well, you should be proud,” Feyre laughed.

“Proud my ass,” Rhys muttered.

Cassian lingered to murmur something to Nesta even Elain couldn’t hear. Nesta scowled and pushed him, though Elain thought she saw a blush redden her cheeks. Cassian chuckled and trailed her inside.

“Do you want to go in or stay out here?” Lucien asked, his hand finding the small of her back. He was very warm.

“I haven’t done much gardening yet,” Elain said quietly, looking down at her flowers. “You can join them, if you want.”

“Would you rather I stay with you?” She found his eyes at this. He asked her more questions than any other being she’d met. She didn’t know if it was because her sisters had scared him so terribly or if that was just his way. She found her fingers tracing the edges of his scar.

“You understand people better than I do,” Elain whispered. “Do you know why they say mean things to one another and laugh about it?”

“No, not really. Mostly to show their friends they like them, as far as I know,” Lucien smiled, his hand sliding across her back slightly. She was very close to him. “But it is good fun.”

“Flowers don’t do that,” Elain said, not entirely sure why she was talking. He was looking at her … She couldn’t explain it.

“They certainly don’t,” he admitted. His hair was pulled back. It looked bright and lively in the sun.

“You’re rude to others and dote on me too much,” Elain tried. She was certain Cassian would’ve roared with laughter at her poor attempt at mimicry. Lucien just smiled wider.

“You spend too much time with flowers,” Lucien said. Elain smiled to match him. He laughed and leaned down so his forehead touched hers. “I feel like a child again.”

Elain giggled, “I think I might still be a child, compared to the rest of you.”

“Not many children can boast of your aptitude for foliage.”

“Foliage?” Elain gasped. “Foliage?!”

Lucien laughed harder, his shaking rolling through her.

“Well, Lucien,” Elian’s face heated. But Feyre would’ve said it to Rhys. And she wouldn’t have even thought it a brave thing to say. And Elain wanted to say it, and she wanted to see how Lucien would react. “Not many children can boast of your aptitude for seducing females.”

His laughter bubbled out. He was looking at her  _that way_  again. “I didn’t realize my abilities applied to you.”

The low way he spoke made Elain bite her lip and find safe haven in staring at his chin. She couldn’t help it when her gaze drifted to his lips. She was still holding his face, still gently stroking the marred skin below his eye.

“Maybe you aren’t as good at people as I thought,” Elain murmured. Lucien smiled again, smaller and more predatory. Feyre would’ve called it 'male satisfaction.’ Elain didn’t mind it at all.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Elain,” he breathed. She closed her eyes as he leaned closer until finally his lips met hers. He was soft and gentle, even when her hand slid back into his hair. As though they had all the time in the world, and they were the only ones in it. She felt it for the first time. The bond between them. Her joy was echoed and multiplied on the other side of it. She could hardly breathe by the time they pulled apart. Lucien touched his forehead to hers again, laughing quietly as she giggled.

“I haven’t wanted to do that in a while,” Lucien said.

“I thought I was more tantalizing than that,” Elain pouted. He kissed her cheek gently, another laugh rumbling through him.

“You have no idea,” Lucien promised.

“Tell me.”

“Elain,” Lucien coughed, pulling away from her slightly. Her hand drifted out of his hair down to his shoulder. She brushed at the nape of his neck with her fingertips lightly. “You’d think I was some kind of … uncontrolled beast.”

“Tell me,  _mate_ ,” Elain said, watching him. His eyes widened slightly and he stared blankly at her, blinking several times. She liked to surprise Lucien, she decided.

“There are moments,” Lucien sighed, leaning closer to her until his breath tickled her ear. She closed her eye again, listening to his voice. “Where I want nothing more than to throw you against the wall and tear your clothes off. And I have to think of what Nesta would do to me to stop myself from touching you.”

“Are you really that scared of her?”

“I’ve considered alliances with Cassian to distract her, but I doubt he’d risk his own neck for me,” Lucien chuckled.

“I’ll talk to her,” Elain kissed his jaw. He buried his head in her neck, breathing in the scent of her. She did the same. The scent of people was still such an odd thing to her. Yes, she could see and taste and hear so much better, but the scents were off putting. She could track Nesta and Feyre starting from where they’d been hours before. Lucien’s scent was as warm and welcoming as his voice.

“Elain? Are you still-”

She pulled away from Lucien just slightly at her sister’s voice. His hand hooked around her waist lightly. Feyre’s eyes darted between Elain and Lucien. She neither smiled nor frowned. She just watched them for a moment. “Nesta is going to have a trip south of the- of Spring Court in about a month and a half,” Feyre said plainly. “We’re eating dinner at the House of Wind in a few minutes.”

“Shall I get started on the steps?” Lucien asked drily.

“Cassian will come back for you,” Feyre said, turning to go back inside. “Probably.”


	2. Complications

Elain and Lucien were tolerating Cassian. He was a petulant child, pacing and throwing himself across the furniture dramatically. Elain was amused by it. Lucien was not. All he wanted was some time with his mate while her sister (the scary one) was away. Cassian was determined to spread the misery as far as possible. Nesta had only been gone for a day and a half and the batty infant was going even crazier than usual.

“Cassian, time for our training,” Feyre poked her head down the stairs, face flushed enough that Lucien didn’t ask what she’d been doing. Rhys’s scent practically preceded her into the room. It definitely preceded the High Lord himself, considering he only meandered down the stairs after Cassian had jumped to his feet at the prospect of something to do. Rhys winked at Lucien and slunk out the front door. Lucien met Elain’s eyes for a moment before returning to his book.

They were both on the couch, considering Cassian’s desire to upset as much of the sitting room as possible. Usually they sat farther from one another, though Elain was at one end of the couch and Lucien the other. He trained his eyes to his book as she shifted. She didn’t stand, but the couch moved under her weight. Lucien ran a finger down the edge of a page as he turned it.

“Hello,” Elain dropped down, her head just barely brushing against his thigh. Lucien tamed his racing thoughts (though that was a hard won battle) as she settled. She was lying across the majority of the couch, her knees hanging over the end of it. She tilted her head and regarded Lucien as he lowered his book.

“Hello,” Lucien chuckled. “Are you comfortable?”

“I am,” Elain said with an affirmative nod. Lucien pulled her hair out from under her without thinking, holding his book with one hand. If she kept on like that, she’d have her hair tangled enough that even Nuala and Cerridwen would be mildly upset. Elain smiled at him and he nearly dropped his book on her, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Lucien murmured. He cleared his throat and looked up at the mantle, “I mean- You’re welcome, Elain.”

Lucien set his book on the armrest and turned his page, sneaking a look at Elain as he did.

“When is Nesta back?” Elain asked. Lucien look down at her. He doubted there was a gentle, clean way of asking she put her head in his lap. It would make her more comfortable, and some small part of Lucien still wanted to slowly kill himself apparently. Elain had gotten more at ease with him of late, and he wasn’t about to ruin it by pushing her farther than she wanted to go.

“As far as I’m aware, two more weeks,” Lucien answered, watching his hand pull through her hair. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but Elain didn’t complain. She actually pushed herself up to use his thigh as a pillow, closing her eyes and smiling softly.

Lucien had met a lot of beautiful Fae, but Elain was something else. Her soft brown eyes and gentle hands and the way her voice shifted when she was flirting were all … perfect. There wasn’t any other word for it. She could be fierce—she’d proved that against Hybern, but she preferred to be a grower of things than a destroyer of them. Lucien had two more weeks of nearly undivided time with her before Nesta returned and started chasing him off again with that steely gaze. Not that Lucien was scared of her.

Cassian was the one he was worried about. One wrong word, one wrong move, and Nesta would explode and then Cassian would tear him apart. Or laugh while Nesta and Feyre did it themselves. He hoped Rhys would at least try to stop them. It wasn’t a very big hope.

And maybe he deserved it, if he added hurting Elain to his list of sins. He was responsible for so many deaths. He should have gone into the woods instead of Andras. Andras never would have stood for Tamlin helping Hybern, suffocating Feyre, or letting Ianthe wander around. He shuddered at the thought of the priestess. A light touch to his chin made him jump.

“Where did you go?” He looked down at Elain. She’d set her book on her stomach, one hand laying over it and the other at his jaw. She was frowning. Lucien tilted his head into her hand a little more.

“I was just thinking.”

“You looked sad,” Elain said.

Lucien nodded slightly, “I think I might’ve been, for a moment.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve lost many people,” Lucien answered quietly. “And I was thinking that I should not like to lose you, too.”

He kept stroking her hair, not expecting anything from her in response. If he were her, he’d have no idea what to say to that. “Who have you lost?” Elain asked. After a moment, she added quietly, “Spring Court faeries?”

“Spring, Autumn, Day, Summer,” Lucien shrugged. “I had a lot of friends, before Amarantha and Hybern … Even with- with my father … It was- It was a long fifty years.”

“I’m not even thirty yet,” Elain puffed at a strand of hair, but it settled in nearly the same place. Lucien smiled and pulled aside her hair for her.

“You don’t look a day over twenty,” Lucien reassured her. Elain snorted. Lucien blinked, unsure if he was hearing things. Elain’s eyes widened and even she made a surprised face. Lucien was laughing within a moment. A low, rumbling laugh that shook him down to his toes. He knocked his book to the floor and tilted his head back and laughed until he couldn’t breathe. It felt like waking up after a too long sleep. Elain jabbed him in the stomach and he giggled, bending over so they were nearer to each other. Elain’s laughter met his and she pushed his head to the side.

“Don’t you laugh at me, Lucien,” she pushed herself up slightly and settled her head fully in his lap. Lucien wheezed out one more laugh and a cough, unable to stamp out his grin.

“I’m terribly sorry, Elain,” he said. She poked him again.

“No, you aren’t,” she smiled. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m an honest-”

“Honest?” Elain laughed, twisting to watch him. “Really, you’re honest?”

“Excuse me,” Lucien touched a hand to his chest and flicked her nose lightly with the other. “I don’t like this characterization of me.”

“If you’re so honest, tell me what you would do if Nesta walked in the door,” Elain pointed. Lucien smiled, sticking out his tongue at her for a heartbeat. “Well?”

“I would stand up in the way that would most disturb you,” Lucien said, “And I would run for the roof and pray I could jump from it before she caught me.”

“You would not!”

“You told me to be honest!”

“Then why did you lie?” Elain pouted. Lucien touched her bottom lip, running his finger across it. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Because I can’t seem to stop thinking about you and it makes it very hard to come up with plans,” Lucien admitted. Elain bit her lip, turning her head toward him more. Her brown eyes did not leave his for a long moment. “That is not helping.”

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes,” Lucien breathed. Elain’s brow furrowed. Lucien laughed quietly, “Elain, you could take the form of a Suriel and still be beautiful. It’s … The way you smile, and the way you tend to all living things, plants and animals alike, and the way you watch your sisters when you don’t think anyone is watching.”

“I sometimes wonder if the only reason that he took any interest in me was because I was pretty and rich,” Elain rubbed at her ring finger absent-mindedly. Lucien slipped his hand into hers.

“He’s a damn fool,” Lucien kissed her forehead, “You’re prettier and richer now than you were before.”

“Stop it,” Elain pushed him away but she was smiling.

“Why should I?” Lucien kissed her cheeks, then the tip of her nose. Elain nuzzled her nose into his cheeks. Lucien didn’t care that they were in the sitting room and anyone could have walked in. Even though his blood was roaring for him to twist and pin Elain to the couch until she screamed for him—preferably many times over—he had control of himself. If he had survived Calanmai’s magic, he could live through the mating bond. He scented her arousal and felt it down the bond at the same time. Her cheeks were flushed and she was taking those tiny little breaths he loved.

“Why do you smell so good?” Elain asked. Lucien grinned and kissed her chin gently. She was his mate and she was so beyond perfect.

“I took a bath this morning,” Lucien shrugged. Elain laughed quietly, squeezing the hand holding hers. Lucien dragged his nose along her jaw to her ear, breathing deeply. Elain gasped when he kissed her ear lobe gently. Lucien wanted to hear nothing but that sound until the day he died. “You smell good, too.”

“I took a bath last night,” Elain murmured. Lucien groaned and kissed her cheek again. “I was naked and everything-”

“Elain,” Lucien kissed the corner of her smiling lips. “Feyre is having a terrible influence on you.”

Elain’s free hand twisted into the hair at the nape of Lucien’s neck. He was trying very hard not to think of two things: Elain in the bath, and Elain’s head in his lap in a … different fashion. Elain picked herself up and twisted so that she was straddling him and Lucien lost complete track of what he’d been thinking of or avoiding thinking of. His hands found her waist as she leant over him with a small smile.

“Elain,” Lucien murmured. “What are you doing?”

“You were sideways,” Elain rested her forearms on either shoulder. She laughed quietly, “And now you aren’t.”

“I can see that,” Lucien kissed the underside of her jaw. Elain murmured something under her breath and tilted her head to the side. Lucien was immensely happy that she no longer had her head in his lap. He brushed his lips along the length of her neck, recommitting her scent to memory. She hummed quietly, rolling her head so her hair fell on either side of their faces. Elain kissed him softly, pushing him back into the couch. Lucien groaned and pulled her closer. Her hips pressed into his.

“Can you not do that in here?” Elain jumped and twisted to face the stairs. Lucien should’ve heard them return.

“Rather here than somewhere else,” Feyre said. Elain slipped off Lucien, grabbing her book and sitting down on the couch beside him.

“This is my safe place,” Cassian protested.

“It isn’t even your house!”

“Don’t bog me down with technicalities, Feyre,” Cassian said. He must’ve jumped several stairs because there was a much louder thud than usual and he landed with two feet at the bottom of the stairs.

“Any word from Nesta?” Elain asked as Lucien strategically placed his fallen book on his lap. Feyre took the stairs—all of them—with quick, light footsteps. She shoved Cassian out of her way from where he lingered in the doorway.

“Not yet,” Feyre said lightly. Lucien glanced at the floor. She was worried, and trying to hide it. He didn’t know if Elain could tell, but by the tightness in Cassian’s jaw, the Illyrian had picked up on it as well. “For now, no news is good news." Cassian snorted and headed for the kitchen. Feyre sent a scowl his way.

"Is there anything I can do?” Lucien asked.

“The Illyrians need talking to, but they’ll eat you alive,” Feyre sighed. Lucien did not protest. Cassian and Azriel were bad enough. He didn’t need stubborn, brutish, winged strangers snarling down at him for being a red-headed devil. Especially since their common enemy had been vanquished. “Keir is getting upset again, testing Rhys, but he’ll give you to your brothers before he wastes his precious time killing you.” Lucien winced.

“Don’t be mean, Feyre,” Elain chided.

“You could go visit Helion,” Feyre proposed. “But you’d have to leave Elain. He’s got a weird thing about sharing a bed with as many partners as he can get.”

“I’ve been around a lot longer than you have,” Lucien reminded her. “I know what Helion is like.”

“I don’t want to be here alone,” Elain said quietly. Lucien met Feyre’s eyes. A moment later, her essence pressed against his mind. He let her in.

_Has she been all right?_

_As far as I can tell. She just gets worried sometimes,_ Lucien answered.

“Elain, we won’t all leave at once,” Feyre said gently. The predator prowling alongside Lucien’s mind slipped away. “Once Nesta gets back, Lucien can go to Helion. After that, Cas and Azriel will go to the Illyrian Steppes.”

“Can I take Nesta? I want to see her crush Devlon’s balls,” Cassian called from the kitchen. There was a clatter and he cursed violently.

“As amusing as that would be,” Feyre answered, “It’s not the best idea.

"Then at least let foxy boy take Elain to Helion.”

“Foxy boy?” Elain laughed. Lucien pushed her gently. She shoved him back.

“Very creative,” Lucien shot at Cassian. The giant bat meandered back to Feyre’s side, sucking some kind of food off his fingers.

“ _I_  could always go to Helion with Elain.”

“Nesta would crush  _your_  balls, in that ever so likely scenario,” Lucien smiled. He felt like tearing Cassian from limb to limb, more so than usual. There was a growl building up and if the Illyrian said one more thing about Elain, Lucien was actually going to try.

Cassian smirked, “Nesta can come too, Helion will like that-”

“Enough,” Feyre snapped before Lucien could do more than bare his teeth. “You were bad enough with Rhys, it isn’t your job to annoy the living shit out of us all.”

“Please, he does it for the sheer joy of it,” Lucien snarled.

“Lucien,” Elain murmured, setting a hand on his thigh. He looked at her and completely forgot about her sister and the winged menace. She looked so worried, almost scared.

“Let’s go up to the garden,” Lucien said softly.

“If Nesta scents you on her,” Cassian paused. Lucien gave him a dry look, raising his eyebrows. “Even I don’t know what she’ll do.”

“She knows Lucien isn’t like that,” Feyre murmured. “She can be reasoned with, Cass, don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Every time I get near her she tries to take my balls off!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go near her,” Lucien said flatly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t breathe, Lucien,” Cassian snapped.

“Maybe you shouldn’t-”

“You are both well over a hundred years old, behave!” Feyre ordered. Cassian straightened but rolled his eyes. Lucien closed his mouth and swallowed. Maybe Nesta wasn’t the Scary Sister after all. Not that he’d tell Feyre that. Cassian opened his mouth and Feyre held up a hand, “I am your High Lady, I do not give a damn that you are older than me.”

“I’m older than you, too,” Elain murmured. Lucien touched the hand on his leg and his forehead to her shoulder to hide his laughter.

“Why is everyone in the sitting room?” Lucien looked up at Rhys as he strolled into the room and kissed Feyre’s neck. She arched back into his touch.

“Take it somewhere else,” Cassian grumbled, heading to the kitchen again.

“Go back to the House of Wind,” Rhys answered, throwing up a rude hand gesture. “I’m going to enjoy my mate whenever it pleases her.”

Lucien did not know why, exactly, Elain was watching him with her head slightly tilted, but it brought her mouth entirely too close to his for him to focus. “I’d like to go with Lucien to the Day Court,” Elain said, looking back at her sister. Lucien was happy to stare at her neck and ear.

“I’ll tell Helion to keep away,” Rhys said with a wink. Lucien began a prayer that lasted a long, long while.


	3. Day Court

Elain liked the Day Court. She liked the way Lucien’s russet eye gleamed as his tinker-friend explained things. She liked the marble and the air and the sky. More than the Night Court, it was peaceful. Not in the same way, though. The Day Court was bustling and bursting with energy. There was always someone to help, always something to do.

And the City of the Sun—gods, she loved Solas. It was bright and full of hard-working people who yet stopped to enjoy the feel of the sun on skin or scale or carapace. Everyone wore more or less the same thing; everyone had passionate conversations of whatever fancy had recently taken their interest; everyone tried everything and spoke only of the good. Little complaining was heard because they had all been subject to terrible hardship.

“Elain, I do believe you are single-handedly going to change how people view the Night Court,” Helion said over dinner. She and Lucien always dined together, but Helion showed up only when he wanted to. They’d been given a suite of rooms with a dining and sitting area between their bedrooms. They shared a bathroom as well, though Elain was used to that. “Anyone I talk to can only say that you brighten the day.”

Elain blushed, “The people here are very welcoming. I’ve never met so many who are so purposefully happy.”

Lucien grunted in agreement and pushed his food around his plate. Helion sat at the head of the small table, and Lucien was across from Elain. She stretched out her foot carefully and nudged him. His eyes raised to hers for a moment before returning to his half-finished plate.

“Come now, Elain, don’t sell yourself short,” Helion smiled broadly. “Tell me, can you see yourself staying here?”  
  
Lucien’s head snapped up with a snarl. “Don’t.”  
  
“Lucien.”  
  
Helion only laughed and threw a grape into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair. “There was no reason for Rhysand to send both of you here unless he wants to incorporate something of his here or something of mine in the Night Court. I’m simply wondering-“  
  
“I asked to come,” Elain said softly, her eyes never leaving Lucien. He continued to glare at the High Lord.  
  
She wanted to come to get away from Nesta. Because despite how many times Nesta had apologized, despite Feyre’s healing, Elain could not forget the moment that her sister went crazy and slammed her head into the mantle of the fireplace in Feyre’s townhouse. She couldn’t walk through the room without smelling her own blood, without seeing Lucien pleading for her to stay awake. And the roof, the roof where her garden was, it had become the place where Cassian had snapped Lucien’s leg. Elain left because her sister’s mating was negatively effecting her own.  
  
Elain left because she thought she might be more daring away from her sisters. She’d built this grand fantasy in her head around going to the Day Court and using the opportunity to be with Lucien—in every sense of the word. But Lucien, it seemed, did not want to touch her here, where he said the walls watched. He did no more than kiss her cheek before retiring to his own room every night.  
  
“Did you miss me that much?” Lucien bared his teeth in a low growl. Helion smirked, “Your mate doesn’t seem to like me.”  
  
“You’ve never given me much reason to,” Lucien answered sharply.  
  
“Lucien,” Elain warned again, softer.  
  
“Never? I hardly know you, Lucien, yet I’ve given you the best guest suite-“  
  
“My mother has spent most my life being beaten behind closed doors,” Lucien said lowly. Helion’s smile evaporated. “I know it is punishment for something you were party to.”  
  
“Lucien-“  
  
“You know he does it because she loved you. You know, and you’ve known from the start. And still, you do nothing. You had just gotten peace from the first War, then you were under Amarantha’s thumb. She tortured my mother, not because of me, not because of my father, but because it was the only way she knew how to hurt you, you personally, for your part in the War,” Lucien spat. Helion’s lip curled into a sneer. His eyes glowed faintly. “And my mother wasn’t worth your time or resources. She doesn’t deserve anything more than the hell she’s lived for centuries-“  
  
“Enough,” Helion stood. Elain tried not to squeak in fright.  
  
Lucien rose just as quickly, jabbing his finger at Helion. “And you have the nerve to sit there and flirt with  _my_ mate as though  _anyone_ could want to stay with you after how you treated my mother!”  
  
“ _Lucien!_ ” Elain gasped.  
  
Helion’s nostrils flared, “Been sitting on that for a while?”  
  
“Two-hundred years.”  
  
They glared at each other for a long time. Elain could not help but notice how similar their profiles were. The tone of their skin was near the same as well, though Lucien was much fairer. Even the way they were built-  
  
 _‘You can’t catch me!’ A small child races away from her, hair brassy, feet tiny and pattering. She chases the child through the palace, weaving through marble pillars. She gains on the child enough to brush the soft white chiton the child wears. The child screams, running for the familiar forms of her mate and another. “Grandfather, help me!”  
  
“Elain, you shouldn’t have to run,” says Helion, lifting the child into his arms. “The little one might get upset.”  
  
Her mate kisses her lightly, touching her stomach with the other hand. “As much as I hate it when he’s right, Elain …”  
  
“Elain!”_ Lucien’s eyes were wide, very close to her. She was not sitting. She was on her back. On the floor. He was gripping her face. Relief flooded his face as she took a deep breath. He kissed her cheek and her forehead and cradled her closer. “You scared me.”  
  
“Both of us,” said Helion. He was several feet away, his hands clasped in front of him. “I don’t like to think what your sisters would do if you were hurt here.”  
  
“Shut up,” Lucien snapped. He stroked Elain’s hair gently. Elain tried to sit up, and he supported her cautiously. “Are you all right?”  
  
“I- I saw-“  
  
“Later,” Lucien murmured, kissing her cheek again. He pressed his nose down into her neck and breathed deeply.  
  
“Would you mind leaving us alone for a little bit?” Elain asked lightly. Helion smiled and inclined his head. He left without another word. Elain pulled away from Lucien, “That was very rude.”  
  
Lucien laughed lowly. Elain twisted to see his face just as his laughter became truly hysterical. There was so much pain in his russet eye. Elain shifted so she was sitting beside him and let him rest his head on her shoulder. He laughed for a while long, then began to weep. Elain held him.  
  
—:—:—:—  
  
Lucien had planned none of it. Still, Helion did not defend his mother. There had been no regret on Helion’s face. Lucien hated Helion as much as he loved his lady mother. Watching him attempt to charm Elain was infuriating on a deeply primal level.  
  
Trying to trick her into using her gifts was despicable, as far as Lucien was concerned.  _Can you See yourself staying here?_  
  
Lucien had never wanted to hit a male more. At least Helion hadn’t flirted with  _him_. That would’ve unbearable on an entirely different level.  
  
The breakdown was the result of two hundred years of practicing the perfect Fuck You speech being wasted. He hadn’t said half of what he meant to. And Elain should never have had to witness that outpouring of bitter anger. Helion had been avoiding Lucien alone since they arrived, and his frustration had boiled over.  
  
“Stop,” Elain said. She’d dragged him off to a garden in the middle of Solas. The moon hung low on the horizon, and she was shivering behind him. She wove magical flowers into his hair as she carefully braided it. He could tell they were glowing. Her fingers were quick and gentle, and he tried to focus on that instead of their miserable dinner.  
  
“Stop what?” He feigned ignorance.  
  
“Stop agonizing about what happened.”  
  
“What happened when?”  
  
“Lucien.”  
  
“I’ve already completely forgotten,” he said dramatically, “You’ll have to explain.”  
  
“Lucien,” she tugged on his hair sharply. It surprised him enough to earn her a groan. She gave up chastising him to finish his braid. He could practically feel the heat of her blush. She tapped his shoulder and he passed her the leather band for it. “Stop smirking.”  
  
“I’m not,” he lied lowly.  
  
“I can hear it in your voice,” Elain complained.  
  
“I’m sat on a blanket at night with my beautiful mate in an enchanted garden and she’s embarrassed because I made a sex noise,” Lucien carefully pulled his braided hair over his shoulder. Sure enough, several of the flowers Elain had braided in were glowing silver. “What could I  _possibly_ have to smirk about?”  
  
“Lucien,” Elain grumbled. She maneuvered around to sit next to him, shivering in her chiton. The style of the Day Court suited her. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and heating the space above the blanket. She sighed softly and nuzzled closer still.  
  
“Elain,” Lucien hummed, kissing her hair. “You’ve said my name an awful lot tonight.”  
  
“Lucien,” she said again, turning her head toward his. She kissed his jaw lightly. Blood roared through him. “Lucien.” She kissed his cheek. His arm slid from her shoulder to her waist. “Lucien.” She kissed his lips. He tugged her into his lap carefully. She hummed against him and rested her hands on his chest. He cupped her face with a hand. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth. He groaned and bit her. Elain gasped, pulling away.  
  
Lucien cursed and held up a tongue of flame so he could see. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
“I- you-“ Elain’s pink face deepened her eyes. The soft brown was nearly entirely enveloped by her pupils. “You’ve never done that before.” The rasp in her voice sent blood racing faster. Lucien touched her lip gently. He hadn’t broken the skin. And judging by her voice, he hadn’t scared her.  
  
“Do you want me to do it again?” Lucien asked. Elain watched him for a moment before nodding. Her arousal was intoxicating. He smiled and she kissed him, hungrily, waiting.  
  
An idea sparked in his mind that perhaps his mate liked things the same way he did.  
  
The next time he bit her, it was on her neck, and he pulled her hair at the same time. She cried out so loudly that he had to cover her mouth with his hand. Her face turned red as he kissed her cheeks and her nose, trying not to laugh.  
  
“Maybe we should go somewhere else, Lucien,” she said when he removed his hand. Lucien just chuckled and kissed her again.  
  
“Is this why you wanted to be a mountain range apart from Nesta?” Lucien asked. Elain pouted and clambered off him. “I’m teasing, Elain. It’s good. It’s great.”  
  
“Oh,” Elain said lightly. She settled beside him again. She picked at the threads of the blanket. “I haven’t ever …”  
  
“Been pleasured before?” Lucien teased. Elain’s cheek went bright, and she nodded, biting her lip. Lucien tidied her hair carefully and kissed the tip of her ear. “We’ll find someplace where you can be as loud as you want. My ego really needs it.” She pinched his side. He caught her hand and interlaced their fingers. “Somewhere Nesta won’t bother us-“  
  
“Or Feyre,” Elain blew a tuft of hair out of her face. Lucien lifted an eyebrow. “She always  _says_ things and I …”  
  
“I‘ll tell her to close her fat mouth,” Lucien said. Elain gasped as he knew she would, and he smiled and kissed her lightly. “Would you rather I tell her to use it for something else?”  
  
“Lucien!” Elain pinched him with her other hand. Lucien laughed. “You’re just as bad!”  
  
“Oh?” Lucien lowered his voice and leaned into her ear. “And what should I use  _my_ mouth for?”  
  
“You are absolutely incorrigible,” Elain whispered. Lucien noted the flash of her teeth before she ducked her head.  
  
“You like it,” Lucien said bravely. Elain lifted her head, carefully not smiling. Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you?”  
  
“With these things, I’m only stumbling around in the dark,” Elain said softly. “And you’re … Something to follow.”  
  
“You’ve scandalized me before,” Lucien reminded her.  
  
“I didn’t think that possible,” Elain hummed.  
  
“You told me once that you bathed  _naked_.”  
  
“Everyone does that!”  
  
“Yes,” Lucien chuckled. “But most people don’t plant the image of themselves wet and naked and-“  
  
“Well, I was trying to seduce you,” Elain pouted. “It didn’t even work.”  
  
“You don’t need to seduce me, Elain,” Lucien breathed, kissing her. “I’m all yours.”  
  
—:—:—:—  
  
“No… . Elain isn’t awake yet, this can wait… . We are Night Courtiers, remember.” Elain lifted her head from the pillows enough to see that Lucien was no longer beside her. He had kissed her and held her through the night. She’d fallen asleep in the garden and half-woke in her bed. She knew she’d pleaded with him to stay, to touch her. He promised to stay, but he would only touch her when she was fully awake. Elain fell asleep before she could argue the point.  
  
There were voices from the next room over. Elain found her dressing gown and padded out, wrapping her arms around herself against the morning chill. The bedroom door had been left cracked open, and she pushed through it carefully. Lucien was talking with Helion. His hair was braided from the night before, though the flowers were gone. His arms were crossed over his chest. He looked none too pleased.  
  
She went over and rested her chin on his shoulder, kissing just below his ear.  
  
“Good morning, Lady Elain.” She smiled for Helion and breathed in her mate’s scent. “I came to apologize for dinner last night. Are you feeling better?”  
  
“You came to apologize but you haven’t,” Elain sighed. Lucien relaxed as she wrapped her arms around his middle. “It’s cold here.” The room instantly warmed. Elain smiled and closed her eyes. “Come back to bed.”  
  
“Just a minute, Elain,” Lucien touched her hands. His voice hardened. “Your apology means little to me.”  
  
“I cannot simply walk into Autumn,” said Helion.  
  
“Come now,” Lucien said. “With what happened between Rhysand and Tamlin-“  
  
“Beron is not Tamlin. Your mother did not want to leave her children, Lucien, because she loves you. I would have happily taken you in, but Beron would have seen it as a threat-“  
  
“Eris is going to take Beron’s head off by the end of the year,” Elain yawned. She slumped further into Lucien. “You’re so warm.”  
  
“Pretend you didn’t hear that,” Lucien said hastily. “We’ll join you for lunch, but as you can tell my mate is …”  
  
“Trying to get you back into bed,” Elain murmured. “You promised.” Lucien cleared his throat.  
  
“Enjoy your morning in,” Helion said slyly. His footsteps receded and a door opened and shut. Elain supposed he had gone.  
  
“Did you really See that?” Lucien whispered.  
  
“Months ago,” Elain nodded into his shoulder. “It shifts, but something happened a few weeks ago that made it solid.”  
  
Her visions were that way sometimes. The closer they got to coming true, the more real they seemed. Other times they were just shifting images in a fog, thoughts or words or people she couldn’t recognize. It got muddled often. Then, in all the confusion, there would be a bolt of clarity, something that would without doubt come to pass. Like that little Illyrian nephew of hers, or the child with the brassy hair. Those were certainties, even if they slid along time injudiciously.  
  
“Do you really want me to take you to bed?” Lucien murmured after a time. Elain wondered how long they had been standing there, both lost in thought. Something told her it had been long enough for Lucien to pack away what she’d said into different versions for the members of the Inner Circle. Something for Azriel, who wanted Eris dead; something for Cassian, who knew the opportunity presented to them; the truth for her sister and brother-by-law.  
  
Elain opened her eyes. Lucien was doing his best to look at her without turning and disturbing her. Elain raised a hand and gripped his hair. “Lucien.”  
  
“Yes, Elain?”  
  
“I’m all yours.”  
  
The first time was sweet and gentle. Lucien coaxed her to climax twice before carefully pushing inside her, rocking into her and kissing her and touching her. She did not bleed, nor did it hurt. It surprised her. When she whispered her fears to Lucien, he kissed her cheeks and told her those were the concerns of women fucked by human men who were inexperienced idiots or plain cruel.  
  
The next time he asked her to turn onto her stomach. He kissed her shoulder and pushed into her from behind. Then he went faster, he pulled her hair, he slammed against her.  
  
Elain liked that just as much. Lucien was panting and grinning wickedly by the time they were both spent.  
  
“I want to make you breakfast,” Elain hummed, drawing circles on his bare chest with her fingers. He stiffened, and she looked up to hold his gaze. Feyre had mentioned what food meant between mates. She kissed Lucien’s shoulder as he opened his mouth, “I know what it means, yes.”  
  
“Elain,” Lucien touched her chin, lifting her head to kiss her. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Why shouldn’t I be?” Elain murmured. “I’m the one who can See. I know.”  
  
“You know what?” Lucien breathed.  
  
“I know that our own children are fairer than our nephews,” Elain kissed him before her words could register. “I know that you never stray from me. I know that you teach me what love means, and that I never grow tired of your touch.”  
  
“Hang- Hang on,” Lucien frowned. “Our-“  
  
“I know,” Elain said simply. He kissed her again, rolled over top of her carefully. Elain smiled against him. He leaned his forehead against hers and let his hand drift over her. “And what I don’t know, you’ll teach me.”  
  
“Damn right,” Lucien growled.  
  
—:—:—:—   
  
Rhys and Azriel looked less pleased than usual when Elain and Lucien emerged from Helion’s palace. The High Lord of Day was standing beside them with his arms crossed. Lucien nearly cursed aloud, but Elain was laughing and holding his arm and pulling him along before he could dwell on the older Faes’ expressions. She released him and greeted both Rhysand and Azriel with a kiss on the cheek. She bowed slightly to Helion and reached back for Lucien. He took her hand and she hummed slightly.  
  
“You look well,” Azriel said quietly. Rhys’s nose twitched.  
  
“Thank you,” Elain answered brightly. Lucien knew that she was perfectly aware of the tension in the air, and chose to ignore it. She looked back at him and smiled. He couldn’t help but return it. She glowed for her happiness. Lucien stepped closer and kissed her forehead.  
  
“Go home with Az,” he murmured. “I’m about to be chewed out.”  
  
“It’s probably best I talk Nesta down when she smells you on me,” Elain whispered. She kissed him before he could smile. Rhys cleared his throat. Elain stepped back and addressed him. “My sister was right about you.”  
  
She took Azriel’s arm and the Shadowsinger took her away before Rhys’s jaw could drop. Lucien laughed. She was so very excellent at keeping the last word. He blamed her Seer abilities.  
  
“Before either of you start,” Lucien held up a hand. “I don’t care.”  
  
“You’ll care when I send you to the Illyrian Camps without Cassian,” Rhys growled.  
  
Lucien spread his hands, “I was raised by Beron. You’re lucky I can claim what little manners I have.”  
  
“Lucien,” Rhysand snarled. Helion’s mouth tightened. Lucien met his gaze and felt fire spring to life in his blood. Helion’s brow dropped. Lucien felt his power searching, tried to fend it off with some of his own. Something happened that had never happened to Lucien before. Instead of fending off Helion’s attack, Lucien’s power intwined with the High Lord’s. Surprised flickered in both males’ eyes and they hauled back their power at the same time.  
  
Lucien’s heart pounded loud enough for them to hear it on the continent. His muscles tensed as he clenched his jaw. Helion kept his face carefully neutral.  
  
“Let’s go,” Lucien said, moving closer to Rhysand.  
  
“We’re not done-“  
  
“Let him be a petulant child,” Helion waved a hand and stalked inside. “It’s not my problem.”  
  
Lucien heard the doubt. Rhysand glared at him for a moment before gripping his shoulder and winnowing them home. They landed on the roof where Cassian had broken Lucien’s leg. Lucien fell into one of the iron wrought chairs, holding his head in his hands. Rhysand started to head inside.  
  
“Is that why you sent me?”  
  
Rhysand was not fool enough to fein innocence. “Partially.”  
  
Lucien cursed violently. “Will you ever stop meddling in everyone else’s lives?”  
  
“That’s not-“  
  
“I guess you wouldn’t,” Lucien looked over his shoulder. “Too much fun to watch everyone fall apart and have them owe you for piecing them back together.”  
  
Rhysand’s jaw ticked. Lucien raised his eyebrows. Cassian thundered up the stairs and burst onto the roof. “You’re back.”  
  
“You’re standing again,” Lucien said tersely. Cassian looked between him and his High Lord. Lucien raised his eyebrows. “Where is Elain?”  
  
“Asking where you are.”  
  
“I asked where she is, not what she’s doing,” Lucien snapped.  
  
“ _Oh_ -kay, the trip to Day did not go well I see,” Cassian held up his hands. “I’ll go find-“  
  
“You  _filthy_ -“ Cassian caught his mate as she flew out of the house, her claws reaching for Lucien. He could’ve sworn he felt them rake down his face. Nesta hissed and thrashed like a wild beast.  
  
“ _Nesta!_ ” Feyre shouted from down the steps.  
  
“Never a dull moment,” Rhysand quipped, heading inside. Lucien followed carefully, wary of the way Nesta had stilled against Cassian. He held her hands against her chest. She hissed again as he passed. Lucien stuck out his tongue. He wasn’t sure why. Not to antagonize her, surely, but to prove he would not take her abuse lying down. He could’ve mentioned the way Elain moaned for him, the way she begged for him. He could’ve said nothing. The half-rude, half-childish gesture was a sort of middle ground. He took the stairs faster than Rhysand, who paused to greet his own mate. “He’s more scared of your sister than of me.”  
  
“Only one of you stole from the Cauldron,” Lucien called over his shoulder. A bit of Feyre’s ice nipped at his fingers. He banished it with matching flames. To her, and Rhysand, he rudely gestured.  
  
Elain was at the bottom of the stairs, her hands on her hips, pouting. He stopped one step from the floor, blinking innocently at her, tucking his hands behind his back. She looked up at him through her lashes. He dropped that last step and kissed her.  
  
One day, she would be his High Lady. The look in her eyes confirmed it.  
  
“It gets better,” she promised, touching his cheek.  
  
“What does?”  
  
“Everything.” 


End file.
